


Right Down the Line

by intheshadowofthevalley



Category: The Outer Worlds (Video Game)
Genre: Drabbles, F/F, F/M, maybe the real halcyon was the friends we made along the way, multiple ocs because i have no control
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21656533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intheshadowofthevalley/pseuds/intheshadowofthevalley
Summary: Vignettes and slices-of-life of Captain Wes Calloway and the characters surrounding her. Sort of in chronological order.
Relationships: The Captain/OC, The Captain/Vicar Maximillian DeSoto
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	Right Down the Line

**Author's Note:**

> My first (posted) fanfic!
> 
> A disclaimer: I have minimally proofread this. (I just wanted to post it before I talked myself out of it.)

Wes Calloway looked around before opening the dumpster lid as quietly as she could. She had been good about not getting caught dumpster diving. The sign directly above her stated in red letters: “STEALING FROM CORPORATE-OWNED WASTE RECEPTACLES IS PUNISHABLE BY A MAXIMUM OF 1 YEAR IN PRISON.” Inspecting her surroundings again, she silently rooted her gloved hands through the trash. She lucked out here: a ripped pillow and unopened canned C&P synthetic vegetables. She got to eat and lay her head on a soft surface that night. She heard footsteps and immediately ran away with her loot. 

She scurried like she was among the horde of rats that accompanied her in the city until she found her hideout in an alley. It exhausted her just to move this quickly. She hadn’t eaten anything prior for a couple days. She finally made it back to her hole of a home to find someone else squatting there. The man immediately pulled a knife on her. The adrenaline did her a favor and quickened her reflexes and gave her the energy she needed to dodge and stab him herself. She took the few things she had left there and ran off. She wandered until she was in an entirely different borough of the city. She had walked all night, and morning had broken. She had broken with it and collapsed against the wall of a garage. 

A tall, wiry, old black man slinked outside with a pistol to assess the thud on his garage door. “Not another fucking junkie,” he sighed to himself in frustrated disappointment. Hand still on his weapon, he crouched down and used his other hand to inspect her face. He grunted in resignation and decided to drag the malnourished girl inside. 

Wes woke 10 hours later and felt fear she tried her hardest not to let on. She spotted the old man cooking behind her. “Who are you? What am I doing here?” she asked quickly.

“Ansel Ashcroft. Heard of me any?”

“No.”

“Must not be from around here. Generational neighborhood handyman. Evidently at your service.” 

“Didn’t have to scrape me up.” Wes snapped.

“Yeah, I did,” Ashcroft briefly inspected her pitiful physical condition. “Now eat up. Don’t forget to drink that too. It’ll give you some energy.” 

=-=-=-=-=

“Calloway! Get the fuck over here!” the old man hollered from in the shop. The walls were thin. He could easily be heard over even the sounds of the garage and the rain outside.

Wes’ head perked up from her Frankenbike she’d been tinkering with recently. She seemed to never keep the grease and oil off of herself. She jogged from the garage into the tiny office with an even tinier television. 

“What’s up?” she replied as she reached the steps. 

“Sit down. Watch this shit.” he hadn’t looked up at her from the television.

_“The newly-formed Halcyon Holdings Board has announced another colony ship after the successful launch of the Groundbreaker. The ship will inspiringly be called The Hope, and will be boarded only by Earth’s best and greatest. The Board has also urged the best amongst all of you to apply for a space on this legendary ship!”_

“This is it, Calloway,” he gestured toward the predictive artist’s images of the Hope ship displayed in the broadcast. “This is your one real chance to get the hell outta here.” 

“You’re shitting me.”

“I am absolutely fucking not.”

“Not leaving the planet, Ashcroft. Sorry to say it, you’re stuck with me.” Wes glared at him jokingly.

He quickly turned toward her from the squeaking swivel-chair, taking his spidery legs off the desk in front of them, finally looking at Wes. “Lemme level with you, in case I ain’t been crystal enough these past… ah… how long’s it been? 8 years? However long you been shacking up here. This entire planet is fucked beyond repair. Ergo your future is fucked beyond repair. And I can’t see you kissing too much corporate ass for a few crumbs more in your lifetime. I’d go myself if I wasn’t so goddamn old.” Ashcroft rose from his chair at the desk.

Ashcroft stared at the framed newspaper clippings of a younger, even more animated version of himself embracing his late partner, elated when the shop’s ownership was officially passed to him. Wes got up out of her chair to look at it with him. She had looked at all of Ashcroft’s photos many times before. He snapped out of his brief trance to turn toward her again. 

He gripped her shoulders lightly. “You got loads of potential, Calloway. You’re wasting your life on this wasted planet. You got a chance to do something meaningful with it. Get. Outta Here.”

Wes went silent for several moments. “Let me think about it,” she answered quietly.

**Author's Note:**

> (Another disclaimer: not every character I write has as intense of a sailor mouth as Ashcroft)


End file.
